When Jaz Met Vayl
by FallingToGrace
Summary: Jaz meets Vayl for the first time, things don't go according to plan.


**When Jaz Met Vayl**

The second I sensed the vampire stalking my office building, I triggered the syringe strapped to my right wrist. The one whose contents Father Callem had blessed that very morning. I'd already visualized the kill. Call him out. Fake interest. Let him get close. Then the shot o' baptismal juice. I was almost looking forward to it. After the day I'd had, a little vamp smoking followed by a long cruise in the Corvette parked behind me sounded tight.

Then he stepped into the light. And I knew.

I wanted to say, "Are you serious? You're trying to blend in that getup? I'm surprised people don't run screaming every time you walk through the door." But I knew better. Women probably reached out to run their fingers down the collar of his black leather duster. No doubt men asked him where he shopped for those perfectly tailored trousers, that wine red dress shirt. Even his shiny black shoes looked like they'd pay a month's rent on my apartment.

Biting my lip as he said, "Excellent work, Jasmine," I shoved the syringe back into its spring-loaded sheath and hid my arm behind my back. A little extra insurance never hurts, especially when the alternative is an accidental injection resulting in the internal boiling of your new boss.

I said, "You're the one, aren't you? The vamp Pete just nailed my career to."

"My name is Vayl."

He offered his hand. To be polite, I'd have to give him my holy water hand. Sudden visions of a major malfunction made my cheeks burn. It could happen. If I hadn't pressed the safety valve correctly, shaking would catapult the needle into the flesh between his forefinger and thumb, where it would release a fluid so toxic to his system that he would literally burn from the inside out.

I gave him my other hand. So when we shook, it actually looked like we were way close. Or a couple of geeks who still hadn't refined our social graces.

I should've said, "I'm pleased to meet you. I think we'll work well together." I meant to. Instead, what came out of my mouth was, "Pete said you get whatever you want. So, okay, I'm your assistant. Just don't expect me to like it."

I bit the inside of my cheek. _What are you, stupid? Picking a fight with the Oversight Committee's star isn't going to win you any supporters. And it might be nice if your new constant companion doesn't loathe you! _

Great. My one chance to make a stellar first impression and instead of giving him a mysterious smile and an approving nod, I'd gone and opened my yap.

_Fix this!_ Screamed the wild, worried part of my brain that never slept because it drank, like, fifteen cups of coffee a day and stayed up all night reading apocalyptic blogs on the Internet.

Without thinking, because that might've been a good thing, as soon as Vayl released my hand I reached up and gave him a one-armed hug. "Just kidding," I said, my hearty laugh sounding fake as a cubic zirconia. "Glad to be on board." And then, dear God, why can I never take these moments back? Then I kissed him.

* * *

Vayl had originally come from Europe. His file said Mogosoaia, but he and I both knew the town hadn't existed when he was an infant. So, okay, he'd told a little white lie about his birthplace. That was nothing compared to the whoppers I'd been pulling for the past six months. And wherever he'd made his start, his dark chocolate accent still placed his roots in Romania. So I thought he'd appreciate a little European-style kiss on the cheek. Of course, the person in charge of my brain at that moment was a frizzy-haired freak who startled when people came up to ask her the time.

What I realized soon after my second disastrous greeting was that Vayl's smooth, controlled demeanour didn't hide a perennially bored creature who'd seen, done and/or killed it all. Even he probably thought nothing could move him, he'd suppressed his feelings so successfully. But I'd seen eyes like his before, staring out of the faces of Marines who came to our house to borrow a hammer from my dad, and stayed to put their heads back on straight. Those eyes said, _I've seen too much. Survived things that should've killed me. I don't know if I should be walking this earth anymore, because I'm so changed. Tell me, can I belong to anyone, anywhere? Am I worthy? Or should I disappear?_

It only took seconds. Between the time my lips brushed his fever-warm skin and the moment I realized he hadn't been touched that way in years, I knew Vayl needed me. Felt it in the way his fists clenched and his teeth ground together. Saw it in the stunned set of his face when he looked down at me.

I pulled completely away from him. "Sorry. I just got in from England so the kissy-cheek hello still hasn't worn off. And, uh, about what I said before? Pete ordered me to behave so, you know, I'm finding it very hard to."

He considered his words carefully before replying, and in the lull I studied him. Strong jaw shoring up a face that would've been heart-stopping if he ever smiled. Short, dark curls that softened the severity of his winged eyebrows. Full lips that hid fangs so sharp they could puncture skin and vein without tearing. _Not a man,_ they reminded me. _Something altogether fiercer, wilder, and much, much more dangerous._

"Are you always this surprising?" he finally asked.

"No." I thought about it. "Possibly. It's been a while since I teamed up with anyone so it's hard for me to be sure."

I waited. If he brought up my past, it didn't matter if he hit his knees, I would turn my back on him forever.

He said, "Then perhaps we should continue this discussion after we have worked together for a few weeks."

"What are you expecting from me?" I asked.

His lip twitched. Was that supposed to be a smile or did he have some kind of nervous tic? "I understand you are the best human assassin the CIA has ever trained."

"Cool." I tried to hide my pride, but he was watching me like a scientist in the middle of an important study. I had a feeling I should get used to him seeing through my facade. _Time to get out the shovel. Clearly my secrets aren't buried nearly deep enough._

He said, "All I want, all I need . . ." he paused, his amber eyes seeming to speak different words, ones he knew I wouldn't understand, "You . . . and I . . ."

"I think we're going to get along just fine," I finished for him. I clapped him on the arm. With the holy water hand. The syringe shot out of its sheath. Grazed the elbow of his coat. Flew through the air like a tiny, water-filled missile. And landed in the roof of the Pete's wife's Chevy ragtop; the one he only drove to work when he got her oil changed. I could see the hole from where I was standing.

"Oh. Shit."

Vayl said, "Jasmine, perhaps we should discuss appropriate lang—"

"Pete likes you, right?"

"I suppose so."

I hooked my arm in his and pulled him back toward the office. "Then maybe you could do me a little favour?"

**The End**


End file.
